I would lie awake at night, at the end of Christmas day, and ‘rate’ our Christmas. I’m not sure what need precipitated my young soul to do this. But the practice followed me into adulthood as if a pre-subscribed formula would make for a good~better~best day.
This year, as memories popped up on my phone… caroling to the doubly homebound during the Covid pandemic, resettling refugee families, and trying to make other’s burdens a little lighter… I am (finally!) beginning to understand that my ratings were based on a mere 12 hours, as opposed to the season… of waiting and of joy that was intended all so many years ago.
I read recently… What would Christmas look like, if Egypt had closed its borders to asylum seekers fleeing danger and persecution? If the Holy Family had been separated at the Egyptian border, and Mary & Joseph were forced to return to Jerusalem without Jesus…
Would the scenes on our Christmas Cards look differently?
All the holiday symbols focus us on levity, joy, and peace. But the reality is that Christmas is so much more… as is Hanukkah, Ramadan/Eid, Diwali, and Kwanzaa… all celebrations that grew out of exile, struggle, fasting, patience…and too often exclusivity…
Gradually, I am learning to focus on the bigger picture. My ‘table of want‘ cannot be shrunk down to who does or does not gather at my table on December 25th.
Rather, I choose to benefit from the bounty of the vast gifts offered me in multitudes of ways …from the droves of individuals placed in my path … to the legions of blessings hovering within arm’s reach, if only I look past the ‘empty’ and out towards the infinite.
